Even Angels Fall
by HepCatRaven
Summary: Everyone has a story to tell, this is his. {Snoddy's backstory.}
1. Chapter One

Even Angels Fall  
  
"Jeffery! Jeffery!" Emily Jefferson called out her front window. She pulled her head back in and began to wring her hands again. She paced back and forth in front of her husband.  
  
Robert rolled his eyes and put the paper in his lap.  
  
Emily jumped at the loud crinkling sound.  
  
"Emily deahest, you can't be worrying yourself sick ova that boy. He'll come home when he's good an' ready." He shook the paper out and lifted it again, sinking lower into his plush scarlet chair.  
  
Emily perched herself on the edge of the sofa nervously, ready to jump as soon as the front door made so much as a squeak.  
  
-----  
  
"Come on Jeff!" Lucy Peters called to her best friend as she raced up the large hill. She tucked her skirt between her legs and lay down on the soft grass, watching as the first white stars began to appear overhead.  
  
"I dunno why youse like this so much Luce!" Jeffery Jefferson {he had always hated his name} grumbled as he trekked up the hill after her. He plopped down next to her and folded his arms.  
  
She sat up and tweaked his thin nose. "Come on! It's really fun okay? Trust me." She lay back down and glanced at him over her shoulder.  
  
"It ain't, I mean it's not right Lucy. You're a girl!"  
  
She shrugged awkwardly. "And youse is a boy, so?"  
  
Jeff finally gave up and laid down, the soles of his feet resting against hers.  
  
"Ready?!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Les just get this ova with."  
  
"Set?!"  
  
"I'se doin' this under protest!"  
  
"Go!" The two ten year olds took off down the emerald hill, rolling as fast as the laws of nature would allow them to.  
  
-----  
  
Emily's heart leapt into her throat as the front door opened then slammed closed again.  
  
"Whoops...sorry!" A small voice called out.  
  
She ran to her son, smothering him with "Where were you"'s, and "I was so worried"'s. "Ya absolutely filthy!" She cried out, suddenly afraid to touch him. She dragged him through the living room and into the nearest bathroom.  
  
"Heya son."  
  
"Heya pop..." The two called out to each other as hysterical mother and child passed by.  
  
Once in the safety of the bathroom, Emily began turning the spigots in the tub. "Jeffery, where were you? You had your father an' me worried sick!" She shook her head and tested the water with a slim hand.  
  
Jeff rolled his eyes and leaned against the porcelain countertop.  
  
Emily shook the excess water off, then dried her hand on the skirt of her blue dress. "Oh dear...well, it's not like it'll stain." She mumbled to herself after she noticed what she had done. She turned to her son and folded her slender arms. "Yes, well, you can take a bath right? 'Course ya can...you're almost eleven years old now." She nodded, a weak smile flickering across her small mouth. She clapped her hands together and practically lunged for the doorknob, eager to get out into the not-so-humid hallway. "Get on with it then, dinner'll be waitin' for ya." She grasped the doorknob then thought better of it. Turning, she pecked her son on the head and was out the door in the batting of an eye.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff toweled himself off slowly, dreading the dinner that awaited him. "Pro'bly snails again...or that fishy stuff." He grumbled to himself as he gazed at his hazy reflection. His mother's voice went 'round in his head.  
  
/"My little boy's growin' up so fast!" /  
  
"What if I don't wanna grow up?" He shouted as his image. It echoed him, mockingly silent. He stretched his arm across the counter and rubbed out the condensation that had gathered on the mirror. Jeff sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched the water drain, wishing he could go with it.  
  
-----  
  
Emily paced back in forth before the dining room table, rearranging this, or replacing that. Her son begrudgingly descended the stairs, taking one step at a time, as slowly as he could. Her brow furrowed slightly. "Jeffery, why aren't you wearin' your dinner clothes?"  
  
Jeff stopped five steps from the bottom and looked up, a small scowl on his lips. "Aww, Ma it's jus' you an' me, do I' really hafta?"  
  
Emily frowned and pulled out a chair for her son. "Jeffery, you shouldn't tawk that way. We worked hard to rid ourselves of that horrible accent..." She bit her lip, thinking to herself what a hypocritical statement that had been. She glanced back up at her son and flashed him a small smile. "Nevermind, wear what you like, jes'...come an' eat something, okay?" She pulled out another chair and gracefully planted herself in it. She patted the chair next to her.  
  
Jeff rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs, shuffling the last few feet. He threw himself in his chair dramatically and picked up his fork, tapping it against the edge of the tablecloth covered table. His mother shot him a disapproving look, and he stopped immediately, letting the utensil clatter noisily on the tabletop.  
  
Emily sighed lightly. "Mary...Mary dahlink? Is Jeffrey's dinner ready?"  
  
A tall wiry woman with coal black hair poked her tired head through the doorway. "Yes mum, it'll be out in a jiff." She curtsied swiftly and rushed back into the kitchen.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff folded one arm across his stomach and held his cup in the other. He swirled it round, listening contentedly to the chinking of the ice as it met the glass surface. His mother had long since gone to bed, tired of waiting on him to finish. The only other person awake was Mary, who was busy scouring pots and grumbling to herself in the kitchen. He put down his almost empty glass on the table with a soft thud and crossed his arms in front of him, roaming over his teeth with his tongue.  
  
Mary sighed and looked up after hearing the thud of Jeff's glass on the table. Jus' like 'is fathah, that one. "Will you be requirin' inythin' more sih?" She paused her scrubbing and waited for his reply.  
  
Jeffery shook his head, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "Oh...well den, no Mary." He pushed his chair back and glanced at his plate. "I'm jus' gonna go ta bed now...ya want me ta get this?" He picked up the edge of his plate and let it drop again; signaling to her what her was talking about.  
  
Mary paused her scrubbing again. "No sih, I'll get it."  
  
"Okay." He said, more to himself than Mary. He heard her resume her cleaning and took off to his room.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff awoke the next morning feeling duller than ever. It was Saturday. Great, He thought in disgust. Saturday meant no school, and no church to busy himself with, and worst of all no Lucy. Every weekend Lucy Peters visited her dad in Queens. He was a handy man of sorts, and had sent his daughter to live with his sister on Staten Island. He could only care for her on the weekends, and hardly even then. Jeff ran a hand through his cropped brown hair and fell back onto his pillows, throwing three of them onto the floor. Emily Jefferson had a 'thing' for pillows. His father used to joke that she was a goose in past life, and was trying to get all of her feathers back. He smiled at the thought, his mother was in fact very much like a bird: the way she spoke, acted, walked, gestured, sat; everything about her was small, nervous, and delicately feminine. Well, at least in front of her husband. At times she broke out of her bird-like shell and was a woman that Jeffery would be proud to call mother, but she always shrank back again; as if she was afraid of the very thought of change. He glanced at the large grandfather clock against the far wall.  
  
9:32.  
  
/Mother'll be in heah soon./ He threw back the down comforter and stepped onto the hand woven rug next to his bed. He extended a hand to balance himself against the footboard as he slipped his shoes on. As if on cue, his mother knocked at his door.  
  
"Jeffery?" She asked, her voice far to chipper for the morn. "Are you decent deah?" She knocked again, slightly harder.  
  
Jeff sighed and slipped his pants on. "Yes mother...I'm ready."  
  
-----  
  
Jeff gazed sleepily out the window of the car, his mother smiling grandly and gazing at the new hat she had bought. She flicked a speck of dust off the brim and set it back in her lap, straightening the flowers that sat on top.  
  
Jeff's foot hit the hatbox, and he glared down at it, as if it would apologize for being in his way. He sighed and wriggled around in his seat; he hated being confined for large periods of time, almost as much as he hated shopping.  
  
"Lawrence, stop here."  
  
A pair of kind brown eyes peered at Emily Jefferson in the rear-view mirror. "Yes'm." The chauffeur pulled to the curb and jumped out to open her door.  
  
Jeff rolled his eyes and opened his own door, slamming it hard after getting out. His mother walked briskly into Macy's, the doorman rushing to get the door for her. The cold air hit Jeff head on and blew his hair away from his face. The scent of thousands of perfumes all mixed together hit him next, making him want to gag. He held his breath and held a hand over his nose, following his mother from one counter to the next. 


	2. Chapter Two

"Okay Jeffery! Come on an' show us!" Emily sang out.  
  
Jeff looked at himself in the full-length mirror and considered running away. No way would he ever wear this stupid outfit! He sighed shakily and pushed open the dressing room door. He frowned at his mother and the seamstress who had put the ridiculous thing on him.  
  
They smiled. "I think 'e likes it!" She said cheerily.  
  
He turned to his mother, who was biting her lip to keep from laughing. Jeff cracked a small smile.  
  
"My little sailor..." She said, on the verge of a belly laugh. She saluted him. "Aye, aye cap'n!"  
  
Jeff's smile grew wider as he blushed and looked at the floor, digging into the carpet with the toe of his shoe. "Jeff, this isn't working."  
  
/You're tellin' me. /  
  
She turned to the store employee. "Do you have anything else?"  
  
-----  
  
Two hours and ten outfits later, Jeff was ready to drop.  
  
"There, I think we're done now." Emily motioned to her son. "Come on Jeffery. Let's go home."  
  
He smiled weakly and followed his mother out the door, promptly falling dead asleep in the backseat of their car.  
  
Emily pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and gazed at her son as he slept peacefully. "Such sweet an' interrupted innocence." She whispered.  
  
"'Ju say something mum?" Lawrence asked from the driver's seat.  
  
Startled, Emily turned to the front. "Hmm? Oh...no Lawrence."  
  
"Home then?" Emily nodded, not really listening. She rested her chin on her gloved hand and gazed out the window, watching the stores fly by. Pretending to push a stray hair back, she wiped a tear from her cheek.  
  
-----  
  
The years flew by for Jeff, the complete opposite holding for his mother. Day by day she grew older, bags forming under her once flawless eyes, wrinkles appearing where there once were none.  
  
It's truly amazing how fast the human body shuts itself down. In a mere five years, Emily looked older than she had ever thought possible.  
  
Jeff heard his mother cry at night, and he also heard his father sneak out early in the morning. At 16, he now understood the things that he hadn't as a child. It broke his heart to hear his mother cry night after night, and it didn't help that his once loving father now snuck out of the house whenever he pleased.  
  
The family business was crumbling, and what money they had was being constantly squandered away.  
  
Somehow, despite all this, Jeff had a positive outlook. In his mind, everything would be okay, one way or the other, and when his mother mysteriously became pregnant, it seemed as if he was right.  
  
-----  
  
The night he found out, he rushed to Lucy Peters' house, a mixture of excitement and worry coursing through his veins. He stopped under her window and picked up three small pebbles from the ground, his heart beating madly. He threw the first one.  
  
/Poifect aim, as usual. /  
  
He grinned to himself; thinking about his mother's feeble, now non-existent attempts to rein his accent. He threw the second one. It hit the wooden window frame. Jeff grimaced, his wide mouth turning into a frown. He reeled his arm back and launched the last one, not realizing that the window was now open.  
  
The small stone flew by Lucy Peters' head; she followed it with her eyes, then gazed down at Jeff, her chin in her hands. "What now?" She hissed.  
  
Jeff looked up at her, a smile on his lips and in his eyes.  
  
Her hair curled around her face and rustled softly in the gentle breezes that blew in from the harbor. "Ya gonna stand dere all nite or tell me what's wrong?" She furrowed her brow at her best friend.  
  
Jeff shook his head, clearing it. "Sorry. Look, me mudda's gonna have a kid!"  
  
Lucy furrowed her brow further. "How?!" She asked, incredulous.  
  
He shrugged. "Come on down...I need ta tawk."  
  
Lucy nodded and shut her window.  
  
Jeff wandered over to the stairs in front of her small apartment and leaned against the railing. He stared up at the black sky and began mindlessly counting the stars.  
  
The door behind him opened and shut quietly.  
  
Lucy sat of the step closest to him. She shivered, clutching her over- sized coat tightly.  
  
Jeff turned, having heard her teeth chattering. Given it was a cold night, but it wasn't that cold. "Ya okay Luce?" He grabbed two metal bars with his fists and rested his head in-between, looking at her through the opening.  
  
She faced him, her eyes sparkling. "Mm-hmm, yeah." She stamped her feet against the cement stairs and looked up at the pitch sky. "Da stars get dimmah every yea." She noted.  
  
Jeff followed her gaze with his eyes and tried to nod. "Yeah...it's a shame. I really liked dose stars." He said, referring to the constellations as if they were old friends.  
  
Lucy laughed lightly, a small cough following.  
  
"Youse sure ya okay? Ya can tell me, Lucy." She hesitated before saying anything.  
  
"Youse is so good ta me Jeff." She said, keeping her eyes skyward. "Well yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He shifted his weight.  
  
A tear trickled down her cheek.  
  
Jeff's eyes widened and he momentarily forgot all about his mom and her pregnancy. "Lucy, what happened?"  
  
When she didn't reply, he moved over to the front of the steps and sat next to her, draping an arm across her narrow shoulders. "Lucy, what's wrong?" He repeated, his voice growing softer.  
  
She sniffed and ground the tears out of her eyes. "Nothing, it's jus' dat...I take youse for granted sometimes...how special ya are ta me an' all."  
  
Jeff's smile returned to his face. "Oh Luce, ya don't need ta tell me all dat. I'se know how ya feel 'bout me!"  
  
Lucy faced him, their noses barely three inches apart. "Do you?" She whispered.  
  
Jeff tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.  
  
"Anyway, what was dat 'bout ya mom?"  
  
"Oh, well, she's pregnant...God knows how."  
  
Lucy smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "Dat's great Jeff!" She held him at arm's length and looked him in the eye. "Ya gonna be a big bruddah!"  
  
Jeff laughed at her sudden mood change. "I'se t'ink youse is more 'cited 'bout dis den I am!"  
  
"It's possible!" She exclaimed. "'Sides, it means dat we'll both have a sistah or bruddah!"  
  
"Oh?" Jeff raised an eyebrow in question. "How do ya figga dat?"  
  
"Well, I mean, I'm already always wid ya anyways—" She blushed suddenly. "So it'll be like it's my siblin' too!"  
  
"I guess ya right." He grinned at her again. "I jus' came by ta tell ya da good news...so I guess I'se gonna go now." He stood and Lucy grabbed his arm. He helped her to her feet and ran a hand through his ever-growing brown hair. "See ya tammarra?"  
  
She smirked. "Coise."  
  
Jeff watched her turn and walk back inside her house; she turned at the door. "'Bye Jeff." She flashed him a smile and quickly shut the door.  
  
He backed off and watched the light come on, then go off again in her room. He sighed, then shivered and started his way back home. But even after he returned home, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. 


	3. Chapter Three

Over the next six months Jeff was more of a husband to Emily than Robert was. He ran errands; feed her when she was too tired, and was the one who was there when she needed him. She usually slept, propped up on her bed with all of her precious pillows. Jeff eventually moved into the next room in case she was too weak to cry out loudly during the night.  
  
Lucy visited almost every day, and when Emily was finally in her eighth month, she began to stay home on the weekends.  
  
"Lucy!" Jeff exclaimed when he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. "Whadda youse doin' heah?"  
  
She walked to the other side of Emily's bed and squeezed her hand. "I tole' me dad dat I had t'ings ta do."  
  
Emily swallowed dryly and opened her mouth, about to speak.  
  
"Shhh." Lucy shushed her, and stroked Emily's hair. "Ya need ta rest." She glanced up at Jeff. "An' judgin' by da looks 'a you, I'd say you need ta rest too."  
  
Jeff didn't argue, instead he stood, kissed his mother and wrapped an arm around Lucy as a "thank you".  
  
Lucy placed her free hand on top of Jeff's and squeezed it lovingly. She watched him close the door and sighed, smiling weakly at Emily and settling further in her chair.  
  
-----  
  
Lucy shuddered involuntarily, her scowl spreading.  
  
Emily awoke from her light slumber and looked at the young girl, furrowing her brow in confusion.  
  
Lucy coughed loudly in her sleep, causing Emily to jump. She held out a hand, ready to wake Lucy and ask what the matter was, but she suddenly felt a kick from her swollen belly. She placed the outstretched hand on her stomach, eyes wide, a smile growing on her face. She reached out her hand once more and shook Lucy gently. "Lucy, Lucy!"  
  
Lucy awoke with a start. "Wha-what? Is somet'ing da mattah? Is it time?!" She asked, her voice alarmed and suddenly fully awake.  
  
Emily smiled at her, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. "No deah, the baby kicked me."  
  
"Oh! Really? Can I—Can I feel?" She inquired bashfully.  
  
"'Course deah!" Emily struggled to sit up.  
  
"Don't hoitcha self now!"  
  
Emily smiled kindly at her helper. "Thanks, but I have done this before, let me remind you."  
  
Lucy put a tan hand on Emily's stomach and waited, eyes wide and shining. She suddenly jumped back and let out a small cry, her hand flying to her mouth.  
  
Emily laughed. "Strange isn't it?"  
  
Lucy nodded, then realized that Jeff was in the next room, asleep. "Has Jeff umm..."  
  
Emily shook her head.  
  
Lucy turned towards the door.  
  
"Jeff!"  
  
"Jeffery!"  
  
"Jeff! Come 'ere!"  
  
-----  
  
Jeff opened his eyes sleepily, not wanting to leave the dream he was having. He faintly heard someone calling his name. He sat up and stretched.  
  
"Jeff! Come 'ere!"  
  
/Lucy?...Mom!/ He threw back the covers violently and skidded into his mother's room, wild hair and searching eyes ablaze. "What?! What happened?!" He asked, panting coarsely.  
  
Emily tittered at her son's concern.  
  
Lucy rolled her eyes, a smile on her face and one hand on Emily's bulging belly. "Come here would'ja?"  
  
Jeff slowly calmed down, realizing that there was no emergency.  
  
Lucy took his hand and placed it next to hers.  
  
"Well why'd ya cawl me in heah if—" Jeff let out a yelp and pulled his hand back as if his mother's stomach had burned it. "What da..." He looked from face to face in search of an answer.  
  
Emily laughed, ending it in a cough.  
  
"Dat's da baby Jeff." Lucy said softly, gazing up at him, eyes glistening.  
  
"Oh," He said softly, extending his hand again. "Dat's—dat's me sistah?"  
  
Emily nodded, on the verge of tears. "Or bruddah." Emily wrapped her arms around her son, and he in turn dragged Lucy into the group hug. The three fell asleep a few minutes later.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff awoke for a second time, the sun's earliest rays peeking in the half- shut window and dancing over his eyelids. He tried to sit up, but found he couldn't. He looked down and realized that somehow his mother had disappeared and he and Lucy had spent most of the night holding onto each other. He blushed crimson and tried to pry her off without waking her. Her hands fell away easily to his surprise.  
  
/I shouldn't wake huh, she'd pro'bly jus' be embarrassed./  
  
He thought to himself, not knowing how wrong he was.  
  
-----  
  
Lucy awoke soon after Jeff had left, and immediately she shivered and went into a coughing fit: huge hacking coughs that shook her whole body. She held her hand over her mouth, as she had always been taught, but when she pulled her hand away, she saw blood. Panicked, she ran to the closest bathroom and threw up what little she had been able to get down the day before. She quickly washed her hands and splashed cold water on her pale face.  
  
/Jeff can't know,/ An inner voice told her. /He gots enough problems widout youse interferin'./ Shaking, she got rid of any evidence of her "problem" and walked back into the bedroom she had run from, sinking up to her chin in down quilts.  
  
-----  
  
All during the next month Jeff confined his mother solely to her room. He brought her meals in and did any housework that needed immediate attention.  
  
Lucy helped when she was able, having grown up around her handy-man father, but oft times she'd start into her coughing fits and have to rush to another room.  
  
Emily began to get worried and finally confronted Jeff.  
  
"Aww Ma, don't getcha self all wound up. She's fine."  
  
Emily looked her son in the eye dubiously.  
  
"'Sides, she'd tell me if sumptin' was wrong." He said, a little uncertainly.  
  
After that, Jeff made sure to keep a close eye on his best friend. One day, as Jeff and Lucy were joking around while they worked on the family's car, minus chauffeur, Lucy was sent into one of her coughing spasms again. Standing and still laughing, she tried to rush into the house, but Jeff grabbed her arm and pulled her back. His face became serious.  
  
"Lucy, ya gotta tell me what's goin' on."  
  
Slowly realizing that she had been found out and that there was no backing out of it, she sat back down on the ground. A large cough shook her body; she turned away from him and spat in the grass. Turning back, tears began to roll down her cheeks.  
  
"Jeff I—"  
  
"Lucy...dat's blood." He said, swallowing hard.  
  
"I know." She said tearfully, and began coughing again.  
  
"Why din't ya tell somebody 'bout dis?" He questioned, growing angrier by the second. "Why didn't ya tell me?!" He whirled on her.  
  
Lucy suddenly sobered up and matched his anger. "It ain't like I killed somebody Jeff." She said, glaring up him.  
  
"Yeah, it is Luce. Like ya killin' yaself by not lettin' me get ya some help soonah. Like ya killed da trust dat took all our lives ta build up." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit he had developed over the past few months.  
  
She stood and wrapped her arms around him, despite his protests. "Jeff, I didn't want ya ta get upset."  
  
"Upset?" He asked, incredulous. "Why would I be upset? My best friend's coughin' up blood and she din't tell me."  
  
Eyes shining, she looked at him. "I knew how much youse were carin' for ya mudda, an' I din't wanna get in da way. I figga'd dat ya had enough problems widout addin' mine in."  
  
Relenting, he put his arms around her frail body and stroked her hair absently. "I jus' don't want ya ta hoit no more...come on, let's getcha to a hospital." 


	4. Chapter Four

Jeff began rushing around the house, gathering things Lucy'd need while she was under the doctor's care. Unexpectedly, he heard his mother cry out from her room. He rushed in, immediately met by the sight of Emily grabbing at her stomach and breathing hard, every other breath punctuated by a yelp of pain. Jeff almost fainted dead away, but caught himself at the las moment as his mother called his name. "Luce! We'se got a situation heah!"  
  
Lucy wandered in, covering her mouth with her bloodstained hands and a small kitchen towel. She gasped, unsure of what to do, eyes growing wide.  
  
"Lucy!" Jeff shook her by the shoulders. "I needs ya now, okay?"  
  
She nodded, glancing back and forth between mother and son anxiously. She shook herself back to reality, shifting her eyes from Emily, not wanting to see her friend in pain. "I'll get dah cah,"  
  
Jeff motioned approval, and she ran out the door. A moment later, the front door slammed and Emily screamed yet again.  
  
Jeff sped to his mother's side, grasping her hand and telling her to get up. She looked at him sideways, a combination of anger and fear in her light eyes. "Don't worry none Ma, Lucy's getting' da cah. We'se gonna go in a sec, okay?" She nodded best she could, her breathing beginning to even out.  
  
Lucy came back in at that moment. "A'rite, da cah's ready. I'll get huh stuff if youse gets huh."  
  
Jeff nodded again, seemingly the only thing worth doing at the moment. Lucy grabbed a few of Emily's things and stuffed them into a nearby Macy's bag. She began wringing her hands as Jeff lifted his mother and carried her to the car as quickly as he could. Lucy began coughing again once she reached the top of the stairs, threatening to collapse where she stood. She swayed, then latched onto the creaky banister, somehow making it out the door after Jeff.  
  
He gently laid Emily down in the backseat and ran around to the passenger's side, leaning on the shrill horn when she didn't immediately appear. Prompted by the horn, Lucy scrambled into the driver's seat and began starting the car. She threw an abashed glance Jeff's way after the first try. From the backseat, Emily screamed again.  
  
Lucy quickly tried again, and again, and yet again, but the car refused to start. He reached his hands out and banged on the dashboard. "Stupid piece a—"  
  
"Jeff!" Lucy glared at him, her eyes full of surprise. "We'se ain't got time for your crap a'right?"  
  
Jeff nodded meekly.  
  
"I'se gonna try it one more time okay?"  
  
He nodded again, ashamed of how he had exploded over nothing.  
  
She prayed silently as she turned the key one last time. To Jeff's surprise, it started. "Thank God." She muttered under her breath, backing the car out of the driveway and out onto the streets.  
  
-----  
  
"Miss? Are you alright?"  
  
Lucy gaped up at the large woman and smiled warily. "Jus' a lil worried ma'am."  
  
The woman nodded, her eyebrows furrowed, and turned back to her desk.  
  
Lucy coughed suddenly, giving her true feelings away.  
  
The woman, Mrs. Barracks, whirled back around. "Look, I'd feel a lot better if you'd check in as well." She looked at Lucy, worry in her dark eyes.  
  
Lucy hesitated, then received a nudge from Jeff. She turned to him, a question in her eyes.  
  
He nodded solemnly. "Go on," He looked up at the hefty woman and smiled. "I was gonna check huh in, but wid me mudda an' all I guess I forgot." He said weakly, feeling immensely stupid for having not done it sooner.  
  
Mrs. Barracks shook her head. "No need for excuses kid," Then to Lucy. "Come on honey, let's get you situated." She took Lucy gently by the arm and led her away just after Lucy kissed Jeff on the cheek awkwardly.  
  
Jeff watched Lucy walk down the long corridor in tow of Mrs. Barracks. The feel of her lips on his skin still lingered long after she had disappeared. He put his hands in his hair and slumped over, elbows on knees.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff tried sleeping, but found he couldn't. He paced back and forth for so long that a passing nurse told him that he'd wear a path in the floor if he didn't stop. It was a nervous habit his mother had bestowed on him. He felt the role of expectant father, and must have looked it, for many passers-by tried to congratulate him on his new child. He wondered where his /I father was. Then decided he didn't care.  
  
Two hours later Mrs. Barracks trudged down the hall, a troubled look upon her round face. A chill went down Jeff's back. He jumped up and ran to her. "Well?" He asked, debating on whether he actually wanted to know or not.  
  
Mrs. Barracks wrung her hands. "It's not good kid, she's coughing up blood, and I ran some tests...Jeff," She laid a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "She's got consumption."  
  
Jeff started laughing. "Ya mus' be mistaken, she ain't got consumption. She'll be fine. Jus', jus' da flu right?"  
  
She furrowed her brow. "Mr. Jefferson, I'm serious. Now I'm sorry, and I know that this must come as a shock—"  
  
"Shock?! I jus' found out dat me best friends gonna die an' youse call dat a shock!?" He yelled, his anger rising steadily and his voice matching it.  
  
Mrs. Barracks shook a stubby finger at him. "Now there's no need to shout at me."  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I-I just-I," Jeff fell into a nearby chair, nearly knocking it over backward. He put his head in his hands and started sobbing.  
  
Mrs. Barracks lifted her hand, wanting to offer some kind of comfort for the boy, but instead, returned to her post. Some tests needed to be run, but that could wait. 


	5. Chapter Five

Jeff wiped his bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes with the heels of his hands. He sighed shakily, ready to start crying again at any given moment. Ashamed at how he had cried like a baby in front of perfect strangers, he tried desperately to regain his composure. He stalked over to the nurse's station and cleared his throat. "I'd like," His voice came out hoarse and tired. "I'd like ta see me mudda if dat's at awl possible."  
  
The nurse looked up at him as if he had asked for the moon. She sighed and moved around some papers. "Name?"  
  
"Emily Jefferson."  
  
She ran her finger down a list and came up with a room number. "She's unavailable. According to my sheet she's still in labor."  
  
Jeff's eyebrows shot up. "What?"  
  
The nurse checked her list again. "Emily Jefferson...she'll be in room 8-A when she's 'done', but until then, you'll just hafta wait okay?"  
  
Jeff glared at the top of the nurse's head as she bent back over her work. He turned, furious again and marched to the emergency room nearest him: surgery. He went down the hall to the next one: more surgery.  
  
Next one: a drunk man getting his shoulder put back into place, having thrown it out in a bar fight most likely.  
  
The last one on the hall: Jeff walked to the edge of the door and barely peeked in, expecting nothing, then whirled and went back down the corridor. /Wait a second.../ His mind finally registering what was in the last room, he turned on his heels and ran back the other way. He burst through the doors. "Mom?" The word caught in his throat and caused his voice to crack.  
  
His mother's pale face stood out against the starched pillows, gaunt and tired. Her hair stuck to her sweaty face in thick clumps.  
  
Jeff felt as if he had swallowed a cobra and now it was wrapping itself around his heart. He swallowed thickly and stepped closer, ignoring the doctors and nurses who were milling about around him. He clutched her hand as soon as he got close enough.  
  
"Hello Jeffery."  
  
He smiled lopsidedly. "Heya Ma, youse doin' okay? Doctor's gotcha fixed up all nice? Takin' good care 'a ya?"  
  
She nodded, her eyes darting behind him just as he felt a tap on his shoulder.  
  
"Excuse me sir, you're not supposed to be back here, and I believe Mrs. Barracks was looking for you."  
  
Jeff, feeling very submissive, nodded and kissed his mother's hand. "I'll be back Ma."  
  
She waved to him weakly and watched him disappear out the door.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff slammed his hands down on the counter and suppressed a smile as the nurse jumped in surprise. "Youse wanted ta see me Mrs. Barracks?"  
  
"Yes, we need to run some tests on you. And your mother too actually, but that'll be taken care of in due time." She stood, looking at her sheet. "Come with me."  
  
Jeff followed her nervously down the hall, resisting the urge to peer into the doorways, especially when he heard noises he didn't like. /Tests?/  
  
-----  
  
Mrs. Barracks motioned for Jeff to remove his shirt and sit on the paper- covered counter that stood in the middle of the room.  
  
He pulled himself onto the edge and shivered.  
  
Mrs. Barracks turned to him, holding a stubby pencil in her hand. "I'm going to ask you a few questions alright?"  
  
He nodded, rubbing his arms.  
  
"Have you experienced any of the following in the past few months: vomiting?"  
  
Jeff shook his head.  
  
"Muscle cramps or severe thirst?"  
  
Jeff thought for a second, sticking his lower lip out and blowing his hair out of his eyes. "No, and yes."  
  
Mrs. Barracks nodded and scribbled something on her paper. "Profuse diarrhea?"  
  
Jeff froze, wanting to laugh. He bit his lip and shook his head again.  
  
"Fatigue, loss of weight or appetite?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Night sweats or fever?"  
  
"Night sweats? Ya mean like—"  
  
"No, Jeff, I mean when you break out in a sweat in your sleep for no reason."  
  
"Oh...no."  
  
Mrs. Barracks rolled her eyes and mumbled something about 'kids these days.' "Persistent cough?"  
  
"Nah." He suddenly wondered why she had had him take off his shirt.  
  
"Alright then, now I'm going to need to draw some blood." Jeff felt faint. "What?" He asked, his voice cracking. /Needles is da las' t'ing ya needs ta be worryin' 'bout right now Jeffy-boy./ He cleared his throat and began taking deep breaths as she prepared the syringe. "Is dis really necessary?"  
  
Mrs. Barracks spoke without looking at him. "I wouldn't be doing it if it weren't. Consumption's contagious you know." She glanced at him for a moment. "We need to make sure it didn't infect you two as well." She told him in a softer voice. She tied off the upper part of his arm with a piece of cloth she had handy and inserted the needle.  
  
Jeff tried to force himself to watch, but found he couldn't without feeling the need to vomit. He shut his eyes tight and turned away, clenching his teeth until he heard her say that she was done. He touched the spot where she had inserted the needle and shuddered, the hair on his arms standing on end. He felt weak, and wanted to lie down, but knew he didn't have time for it.  
  
Mrs. Barracks threw test after test at him, but 45 minutes later, she was finally done. She opened the door and turned, her hand still on the knob. "I'm taking these down the hall to be analyzed. I'll be back in a minute, don't move."  
  
Jeff gave her his best innocent smile, watching her leave before putting his shirt back on and peeking out the door. /No one in sight./ He grinned to himself, then slipped down to the emergency ward.  
  
-----  
  
"Mom?" Jeff stopped in the doorway, gazing across the room at the empty bed. Not wanting to get caught, he quietly backed out the door and headed for the stairs. Once on the eighth floor, heart racing and blood pounding, he managed to find 8-A without any help. He knocked softly on the door.  
  
"Ma? It's Jeffery." He smiled. "Ma?" The door opened with a loud creak. He winced and glanced down the empty hallway, just in case anyone had heard him. /Whew./ He pushed the door open the rest of the way and crept into the darkened room. He shut it behind him and padded across the floor, gazing cautiously at the small frame in the large bed that lay before him.  
  
"Ma?" He called out, his voice catching in his throat. The body in the bed stirred slightly. He approached the edge and gazed down at his mother's face, hidden in shadow. He swallowed and circled her bed, ending up in a chair opposite the door.  
  
"Nice room." He remarked, gaping at the small surroundings. "Ma, I gotta tawk ta ya...Lucy's real sick. She's got...she's got consumption—" Jeff stopped, afraid his throat might close on his words. He coughed and fought down his accent.  
  
"She's got consumption, and the doctors think we might have it too, seeing as how we've all been in the same house...I'm not even supposed to be here." He admitted, smiling to himself. He looked down at his hands and twiddled his thumbs, watching his slim fingers twirl round one another.  
  
"I'm gonna go ahead and go back now...Mrs. Barracks'll be mad if she can't find me again." He lifted his mother's pale hand and kissed it gently. "Sorry I couldn't stay longah, but I'll be back Ma. Trust me, I'll be back."  
  
Jeff slid back into his room just before Mrs. Barracks showed up again. He breathed a mental sigh of relief.  
  
"Mr. Jefferson?" She looked up at him from her sheet as she entered the door. "Do you want the good ne—"  
  
"Jus' tell me." He said flatly, his hands gripping the edge of the table.  
  
She swallowed hard, as if afraid of telling him. She gazed up at his solemn face, his mouth in a straight line, his eye filled with pain, and sent his world crashing down around him. "We...we don't expect Lucy to survive the night." She said slowly carefully choosing her words. "In fact, we're surprised she's lasted /this/ long." She paused for a second, letting him digest the news. "We ran some tests on your blood sample."  
  
Jeff shuddered involuntarily.  
  
"And we've discovered that you /do/ in fact have signs of consumption." She inhaled sharply. "Be/cause/ it's merely in the beginning stages, we believe that we can treat it...your /mother/ on the other hand."  
  
Jeff shut his eyes tight and lifted his chin to the ceiling.  
  
"The birth was hard enough on her, but that added to the consumption...it just about wiped her out. Now, we're going to do all we can for you."  
  
/There's nothin' you can do for me now.../  
  
"I'm going to go check on your mother." She said awkwardly after a moment of silence.  
  
He heard the door click closed once again and opened his eyes, tears automatically falling from the corners and tracing sparkling trails down his high cheekbones. His grip increased on the table's edge and he felt strength surge through him, feeling suddenly strong enough to rip the room apart with his hands. He blinked numerous times, tried to hold back the tears, but they refused to stop.  
  
/"Let'em out Jeffery it's okay to cry."/ His mother's soft voice circled 'round in his head, causing even more tears to spill. He relaxed his embrace of the counter and lay on his side, drawing his legs up into a fetal position. The paper beneath him crackled nosily to his annoyance.  
  
/I don't understand...what did I do God? Maybe I should listened bettah in church...Please, if you're gonna take 'em away from me, can ya.../ He shut his eyes tight again, holding back the sob that welled up in his throat. /Can ya at least help me out? Help me deal or sumptin'?/  
  
The sob broke through and shook his body, followed by another, then another. He was now crying heavily into his sleeves. 


	6. Chapter Six

Robert Jefferson pushed the hospital door open weakly. "Um—" He cleared his throat and blinked, his vision a bit hazy. "Ex-excuse me...miss?"  
  
The nurse filling in temporarily for Mrs. Barracks looked up at the newcomer. She wrinkled her small nose slightly, taking in his haggard, unwashed appearance and foul smell. "May I help you?"  
  
Robert swallowed. "Yeah, uh, I'm see to here my family." He paused; looking confused for a second. "I mean, I'm /here/ to /see/ my family."  
  
"Sir, maybe you should go sit down, or better yet, go home for a while. At least until you're sober enou--"  
  
He banged a heavy fist against the counter and swayed slightly, as if surprised at his action. "I'm not drunk!" He hollered, flecks of spittle flying out of his mouth.  
  
"Of-of course not sir, I merely meant that—"  
  
He crept closer to the young temp. "I want...to see...my family." He cocked a bushy eyebrow. "Is that clear?"  
  
The nurse glared at him for a second, then considered calling security, or the police. "Fine. Name?"  
  
Robert thought for a second.  
  
"Sir," She sighed. "Do you remember your name?"  
  
"Of course I do!" He insisted, knowing it was a lie. "I'm named the same as that...that guy...from...that war..." He furrowed his brow, even more confused. "My first name's Bob." He said, as if the nickname would help.  
  
"Why don't you go sit down? Then, when you remember your name, come over and tell me. Okay?" She suggested again, a little more forcefully this time.  
  
Robert nodded passively and retreated to a seat near the door.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff wiped his sleeve across his eyes and sniffled loudly. One last dry sob shook his body. He held his arm up to his nose and mouth, in an attempt to stifle the cries. He took three shaky step towards the door and placed his hand on the knob. Inhaling waveringly, he opened the door, grinding the heel of his free hand into his eyes. He sighed, less shakily this time, and went out into the hallway. He gathered his remaining strength and turned to his right, preparing to go find Lucy's room. He stopped dead in his tracks as his gaze fell upon the straggling visitors in the waiting room. A single word fell from his weak lips. "Dad?"  
  
Robert jerked himself awake. "Huh? Wha-?" He snorted as he regained consciousness. He gazed down at the floor, and followed it until his eyes reached a lean figure standing in front of him, staring. He blinked, as if the image would dissipate if he did so. "Jeff?" Tears welled up behind Robert's bleary eyes.  
  
"Dad." The word was void of all emotion. Jeff clenched his fists, itching to get out all the things he had been holding back for 16 long years.  
  
Robert swallowed, easily recognizing the hate flashing in his son's eyes. "How ya, how've ya been son?" He asked quietly.  
  
Jeff considered turning on his heels and running, but found that he couldn't move his legs. Stiffly, he unclenched his fists and stretched out his long fingers. "How've I /been/?" He hissed. "Ya disappear from me life, ruin Mom's, spend every las' cent we's got on beer and women, and youse comes crawlin' back askin' me /how I've been/?!" Jeff tried his best to keep his voice steady, but failed, drawing warning glances from the nurse behind the counter. "Look," He sighed, clearly annoyed. "I'se got people ta see. I ain't got time fa' dis." Jeff turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor, fuming the entire way.  
  
-----  
  
Jeff threw open Lucy's door, immediately remembering her current condition and catching the door before it hit the wall.  
  
"Holy—"  
  
He stepped out of the doorway and poked his head around the corner. "Hey." He said, rather sheepishly.  
  
"Oh...it's jus' you." Lucy settled back down on her pillows. "I /was/ asleep ya know."  
  
Jeff stuck his hands in his back pockets. "Sorry..."  
  
A smile broke out on her face. "So, heah ta rub it in?"  
  
He sat down on the end of her bed and grinned. "Yeah, t'ought I might have a few more cracks atcha befoah ya..." The smile slipped off his face as he realized what he had almost said. "Me pop's out dere." He said quietly, studying his ragged fingernails.  
  
Lucy raised her eyebrows and turned to him. "Really?"  
  
He nodded, not looking up. "Yeah...din't t'ink he'd have da guts ta show up again...guess I was wrong." He gazed at her with serious eyes. "Ma ain't doin' so good, Luce."  
  
"She ain't da only one." She scoffed quietly.  
  
Jeff shot her a warning glance, obviously not wanting to talk about their present situation.  
  
"Jeff?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Can we tawk like we always do?"  
  
"Whadda ya mean?" He asked, picking at a loose thread on her blanket.  
  
"I'll start. Heya Jeff, how ya been?"  
  
"Not dat great Luce...dey say it'll rain tamarra." He continued, gazing out the window next to her bed.  
  
"Really? Dat's a shame, but maybe we's can go outside aftahwoids an' splash in da puddles."  
  
A smile tugged at Jeff's thin lips. "Yeah...dat sounds nice."  
  
The two sat in silence for several minutes. "Jeff...I'se scared." Lucy whispered after a while.  
  
"I know Luce...I know. Ya want me ta leave?"  
  
She shook her head, and leaned back on her pillows, closing her eyes languidly. "So tired." She mumbled.  
  
Jeff rose from off the bed and pulled the covers tight around her. He sat and watched her sleep for a while, wishing he too could rest. He sighed and stood over her, hands in his pockets. On a whim he bent down and brushed a strand of hair from her face, as his mother had done many times to him.  
  
Lucy stirred, and her hand grabbed his. Her eyelids fluttered open. "Jeff?" She whispered.  
  
His heart began to pound. /Mus' be still scared./ He thought, trying to rationalize it.  
  
She lifted her head slightly and he bent down further. Their lips touched briefly, sending a shiver down both spines. She lifted her hand to his face and caressed his cheekbone with her thumb.  
  
He put a hand on the bed to balance himself, her arms wrapping around his neck, and kissed her.  
  
-----  
  
Jeffery Jefferson pulled back and caught his breath. He stared down at Lucy Peters, wide-eyed as a baby foal. He gulped down a lung-sized gulp of air and sat up quickly.  
  
Lucy sat, unmoving in the bed. She coughed without warning, adding to the awkwardness of the situation.  
  
He jumped up and wiped his palms on his shirt. "I'm—I---I'm sorry! I didn't mean ta—"  
  
She smiled sweetly up at him, cutting him off by attempting to grab at his hand. "Do you know how long I've been waitin' for you ta do dat?" She questioned softly, knowing the answer.  
  
Jeff's scared look deteriorated, and was replaced by a relieved grin. "Pro'bly 'bout as long as I've been wantin' to."  
  
-----  
  
Jeff paced madly outside of Lucy's door. He knew full well what was going on inside, and he wanted to have no part in it. But at the same time, he wanted to be there for her. He planned on barging past the nurse as she approached the doorway.  
  
He put his palms together and pushed, trying to ease up the stress that had built up in his shoulders. He let up, then did it again. He continued to do so until the he heard the door behind him swing open.  
  
Spinning around, he attempted to rush the nurse. And succeeded. He burst into the room, the nurse's cries following him shrilly. Lucy was asleep again. He watched her face as he sat next to her. He gently took her hand and placed it in his.  
  
"Lucy, I'se got so much ta say an' so little time ta say it in. I dunno where to start." He whispered to her sleeping form. "We'se been friends since I can remembah. You taught me more things then I coulda evah dreamed of. You showed me da beauty of da woild...I nevah sat an' watched da stars 'til I watched 'em wid you, Luce. I hope you know dat. Ma's real sick. You're sick. God only knows what they're doing wid me new brother..." He paused, then smiled a small, teary smile. "Or sister." He took a shuddering breath and looked up at the ceiling. Tears dripped off his cheekbones and fell to the cold floor. "Oh, God, Lucy..." The sobs racked his body. He lowered his head to hers and kissed her one last time.  
  
Lucy moved slightly, shifting in her sleep. "I love you Jeff..."  
  
"I love you, Lucy. Don't leave me."  
  
-----  
  
Mrs. Jefferson was still asleep when Jeff entered the room to say goodbye. He kissed her lightly, clutching her in his arms one last time before nearly running out the door. All of his words had been said. His love had been expressed. He didn't want her to wake and see him crying. 


	7. Chapter Seven

The head nurse spotted Jeff on his way back from the maternity ward. She somehow managed to stop him in his tracks without moving or speaking. Perhaps it was the look on her face. Perhaps it was the way she held the dress in her arms--/The dress?/  
  
Jeff let his gaze fall on the nurse's arms. They held a yellow polka- dotted dress. /What's she doin'? Is dat Lucy's dress?/ He hadn't realized he had said the last part aloud.  
  
"Yes, dear. It's her dress."  
  
His head began to spin. "Whadda /you/ doin' wid it?"  
  
"We...thought you might want this...might want to give it to a family member..." She mumbled, handing him Lucy's folded up dress.  
  
He suddenly felt faint. Jeff looked at it for a long time, gripping it between his hands firmly and willing back the tears that longed to be released. He swallowed his sobs that were beginning to well in his throat. With tears in his brown eyes, he violently tore the hem of the dress into two long strips, tying one around each bicep. As silly as yellow polkadots looked against his clothing, he liked it. "Dere...dat's bettah." He looked up at the nurse. "I'll give it ta huh fadda, don'tchu worry." He smiled. He paused, then asked: "An' me muddah?" He was ready for it.  
  
She but nodded.  
  
"The baby?"  
  
She hesitated. "Babies born of infected mothers—"She began.  
  
He help up a hand to stop her. "Thank you. I appreciate dis." He stood, and headed for the front door. He turned, last second. "As for da bill, youse can charge a mister Robert Jefferson."  
  
-----  
  
Jeff folded the remainders of the dress and laid it on a piece of brown mailing paper, tying the string tightly around the package. Within the dress was a note to her father. It read: Dear Mr. Peters, I guess by now that you have heard the awful news about your daughter's untimely death. It grieves me to write this, and even as I do, I weep. I was her best friend...possibly something more, and I wanted you to know that I empathize greatly with your pain. Our loss is great, but she would not want us to stop living. I encourage you to do as she would wish, and continue your life as you have been. This dress is the dress that she was wearing before she passed on. Whether she wears it or another when she is buried is up to you and you alone. I thought you should have the dress either way. I am at a loss for words, which does not happen often, of that I can assure you. I can only say that I shall pray your soul find peace despite the circumstances. My best wishes, sincerely, Jeffery L. Jefferson.  
  
He hadn't returned home; there was no reason for him to. He had wrapped the package at the hospital, reality still having yet to set in. He dropped the dress into the clinic's mailbox on his way out.  
  
He put his hands in his pockets and braced himself once more for the cold of the outside world. He wasn't ready for it, he realized. He wanted to run back inside and climb into his mother's lap, as he did when he was a child. Sighing shudderingly, he stepped into the street and made his way down the street.  
  
-----  
  
Jeffery was ready to drop. He had been walking for three hours now, and while it helped greatly in working off his fear and adrenaline, he was now simply exhausted. He collapsed in the opening to an alleyway, falling flat on his hands and knees. He shut his eyes tight and took a minute to regulate his breathing again. He rolled over onto his back and lay there on an old potato sack. He moved his hands so that they held his head up, his lids drooping heavily. He smiled softly and fell asleep.  
  
His rest lasted the night, but early the next morning, even before the sun was out, he was awoken rudely by a gruff voice.  
  
"I said, get up!"  
  
His eyes fluttered open; every muscle in his body screaming for him to lay back down again. He propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed an eye sleepily. "'Scuse me?" He yawned.  
  
The voice grunted, and suddenly Jeff screamed out in pain as a large object connected with his stomach. He sat up quickly, attempting to scramble to his feet.  
  
His attempts were in vain, and soon he was delivered another kick; this time in his ribcage. He screamed even louder this time, clutching his chest. It felt as though it were breaking in half.  
  
"You're not fit to sleep in this street, ya pile 'a street trash." The voice sneered.  
  
He opened one eye and looked up. His assailant was a well-dressed young man, which caused even more confusion on Jeff's part. He had half a mind to stand up for himself and tell the boy off. After all, he was just as wealthy as--/Oh yeah.../ Years of lost fortunes rushed back to him. He muttered a curse low under his breath.  
  
"What did you call me?!"  
  
Jeff jerked his head up, horrified. "No! I—"  
  
"Beat it!!"  
  
A new voice came from the street side of the alley. While the attacker was distracted, and Jeff took the opportunity to clamber back into the shadows to nurse his wounds. His head throbbed.  
  
He shut his eyes and tilted his head back. Even breathing hurt, he found out.  
  
He could hear the sounds of a struggle, flesh-on-flesh contact, and then running, a few feet away. He opened his eyes again.  
  
The newest voice apparently had feet as well, for it kicked at the retreaters, a cloud of dust coming up from off the street. "Snotty rich kids...t'ink dere so much bettah den me...piss me off..." The voice began to fade as it rounded the corner.  
  
/Why'm I doin' so much cryin' taday?/ He asked rhetorically. Jeff sniffled loudly.  
  
"Somebody dere?" The voice came back around the corner.  
  
"Jus' anudda snotty rich kid." He mumbled bitterly.  
  
The voice came closer. "Youse okay, kid?"  
  
Jeff's temper flared. "I ain't a kid." He called out.  
  
The owner of the voice shrank back a little. "Sorry. Youse okay? /Sih/?"  
  
Jeff bit his tongue and nodded.  
  
"I'll assume dat was a yes. I can barely see ya." He explained. "Where are ya? Keep tawkin'." The sound of rough hands running along brick could be heard.  
  
Jeff climbed painfully to his feet. "No, I'll get up. It's okay."  
  
The noises stopped. "A'rite." Silence filled the alleyway. "I'se gonna pretend for a second dat you don't wanna fight. Would ja like ta play along?" He smiled into the darkness. "I wuddn't wanna hafta hoit ya." The voice said haughtily.  
  
Jeff rolled his eyes. "I don't wanna fight nobody—" /Anybody./ He corrected himself mentally. "Especially right now."  
  
The voice grew louder, and Jeff could make out a figure. "Ya hoit?"  
  
Jeff scowled. /No, I'se fine!/  
  
"Dumb question. 'Coise ya hoit, 'e gotcha good."  
  
Jeff heard what sounded like spitting, and a hand was extended his way. "Jack Kelly, but youse can call me Cowboy. Everyone else does."  
  
Jeff glanced down at the hand, then untangled himself and spit into his own hand awkwardly, shaking the offered one firmly. "Jeffery Jefferson." He mumbled, wincing.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Me name's Jeff Jefferson." He repeated.  
  
Jack winced too. "Sorry I ast."  
  
Jeff smiled.  
  
"Ya got a place ta stay, Jeff Jefferson?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
Jack jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Come wid me. I got a place. I think you'd like it. It's ain't da Waldorf, but I doubt you've seen dat kinda place in a long while anyways."  
  
Jeff wiped his mouth on his sleeve and followed his new friend across the street and around a corner. They climbed the steps, Jeff a bit gingerly, and entered.  
  
Jack spread his arms. "Welcome. My home sweet home." He told Jeff proudly.  
  
"What is dis place?" Jeff straightened, the pain finally beginning to recede.  
  
"Dis is da Lodgin' House. Most 'a da Manhattan newsies live heah. Know what a newsie is, right?"  
  
"Kinda."  
  
"Good enough. Now, foist night's free, aftah dat it's 6 a night. Got it?" He approached a window with a book and pen and turned to him. "Youse know how ta write ya name?"  
  
"No." Jeff lied, gazing around the place with new eyes. /Am I really doin' this? Am I gonna really be a newsie?/  
  
"Alright, jus' guess den. Or do ya want me ta do it?"  
  
He shrugged. "I don't care, youse can."  
  
Jack tilted his head. "Okay, I'll do it." He grabbed the pencil and wrote his own name, then under it, signed "snoddy rich kid." "Come on Snoddy, les' getcha upstairs a'right?"  
  
Jeff smiled tiredly and nodded.  
  
Jack threw an arm around his shoulders and led him up the stairs, to his new life.  
  
-----  
  
Even Angels Fall  
Jessica Riddle  
  
You found hope, you found faith,  
Found how fast she could take it away.  
Found true love, lost your heart,  
Now you don't know who you are.  
She made it easy, made it free,  
Made you hurt 'till you couldn't see.  
Sometimes it stops, sometimes it flows,  
But baby, that is how love goes.  
  
You will fly, and you will crawl,  
God knows even angels fall.  
No such thing as you've lost it all.  
God knows even angels fall.  
  
It's a secret that no one tells:  
One day it's Heaven, one day its Hell,  
And it's no fairy tale, take it from me,  
That's the way it's supposed to be.  
  
You will fly and you will crawl,  
God knows even angels fall.  
No such thing as you've lost it all.  
God knows even angels fall.  
  
You laugh, you cry, no one knows why,  
But oh the thrill of it all.  
You're on the rye,  
You might as well open your eyes.  
  
You will fly and you will crawl,  
God knows even angels fall.  
No such thing as you've lost it all.  
God knows even angels fall.  
Even angels fall.  
Even angels fall. 


End file.
